Saturday, July 18, 2020

PROACTIVE SUPPRESSION OF MULTIPLE TRAUMAS

So, as the countdown begins, here we be, closing in on a week away from evicting this unwelcome squatter, which had the unmitigated gall to take up residence in my lung without invitation from me!

One of my book clubs zoomed, last week.  Though serious reading has not felt possible, over these last several months, I’d rsvp’d yes, thinking to partake quietly, but then, feeling too fatigued for any social interaction, my decision reversed..

As this month’s selection, a memoir, KNOW MY NAME, concerns the author’s struggle to regain control over her personal life after rape was followed by feeling victimized all over again while listening to counsel for the defendant batter her reputation during her assailant’s trial, perhaps my thought processor chose to tire in order to disengage from the harsh nature of this month’s discussion.  I mean, how many personal traumas can one brain be expected to suppress while working toward refortifying my host of inner strengths in readiness to break with quarantine in order to fly to Houston—a city within which C-19 is spiking—to undergo cardio-thoracic surgery, which is now officially scheduled ... And with need to quarantine while the reality of undergoing a seriously scary surgery draws near, I’m sure you’ll agree that reading or discussing anything that would most certainly weigh heavy on my mind seems utterly unproductive when my spirit is most in need of injecting my think tank with lightness of being.
👩🏻Annie

PS
You’d think that those who care more about the economy than about people’s lives would wear masks so as to hasten our nation’s recovery from Covid, which, in turn, would hasten the economy’s recovery, as well.  But that kind of thinking requires foresight on the part of those who can’t see beyond their own noses ...

PSS
Once lab results indicated my platelets plummeting, again, following my last infusion of chemo, my oncologist’s decision to cancel my LAST two infusions of chemo saw me feeling deeply relieved and very grateful for this reprieve, being that my blood supply has had sufficient time to regain and maintain its strength during these weeks preceding surgery.

No more chemo!  Whew!  Though I’ve said it before, here it comes, again—What a load off my mind.  With so many moving parts being integral to my ultimate recovery, I need to relieve my mind of as many worries as possible—which, during this pandemic, is no easy feat no matter how often I focus upon my good fortune In hopes of maintaining peace of mind—one day at a time.

It’s no exaggeration to say that Will is often seen texting, emailing or pacing while on the phone throughout the day, making sure that both medical teams in separate states are up to snuff on whatever is currently taking place concerning every moving piece that makes a traveling chess board of my medical charts at Mayo, MD Anderson and Houston Methodist Hospital.  I mean, you’d be astonished at the lack of communication we’ve experienced amongst five doctors’ offices, all of which have access to the same online system that gathers a patient’s medical information in one place so as to be shared by certain doctors’ offices and hospitals.  As suggested to us by one doctor’s PA, our experience, concerning lack of communications amongst separate medical campuses is not unusual.  In fact, some patients have become so frustrated as to have moved, temporarily, to Houston during the months leading up to surgery.

Had Will not been a physician, accustomed to calling doctors to offer or receive information, I can’t even begin to imagine the heights of frustration that would have spiked.  And, in addition to texts, emails and calls to five medical offices and medical records, I’ve not yet mentioned all of the texts and calls to and from family and friends, who remain in touch weekly, bi-weekly, or daily.  Though I look forward to answering texts and emails sent by loved ones, the idea of hearing my voice discussing cancer, repeatedly, is a downer, for sure.

As to my spirit, it writes messages and posts, daily, while my body, though still short of breath, moves without aid of the walker, which prevented falls that, thankfully, have not happened.  And now that chemo is several weeks behind me, I’ve strengthened so as to feel less bed bound, which sees me more grateful than I can say being that we fly to Houston in three days time.

If I didn’t have a benadryl hangover, this morning (of all times for allergies to torment my nose and eyes) I’d probably include a determined emoji, right here.  Thank goodness, the rest of this week holds no infusions, transfusions, appointments, labs, studies or tests, all of which were administered over these last three weeks with the exception of whatever awaits in Houston, pre-op.  Thank goodness, today is a blessed morning in which to rest before readying myself to pack, before Steven and Ravi arrive for their patio dinner at 7pm.
🙋🏻‍♀️❤️Annie

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